


Don't Keep Me Waiting (part 2)

by randompandemic



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Perc'ahlia, Smut, haven't written smut in ages, hohohohohohohoooo, the internet is for porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 09:33:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8396575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randompandemic/pseuds/randompandemic
Summary: Vex'ahlia comes to find Percy in his workshop late one night, and she has an agenda...





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the nsfw version of the fluffy, kissy piece I wrote earlier. I haven't written smut in so long!!! But I had to get this out before tonights episode! So enjoy the pretty much plotless smut.

He is not in his room. Of course he is not in his room. Because why would anything ever be easy? Vex’ahlia rolls her eyes. It feels like they have been here before. A lifetime ago. Things are different now but some things never change. Now they do not have to hide anymore, now she has no reason to sneak around anymore, and while they did still have separate bedrooms, she did not care anymore who caught her go into his room.  

She spins around on her heels and walks down the hallway again, the familiar path through the mansion from his bedroom to his workshop. Finally she reaches the workshop, and sure enough, there he is. Vex smirks a little and clutches the long, teal silk dressing gown closer around her before knocking.

“Come in,” he says, and she smiles. Does he know it’s her? Did he expect her to come by when he didn’t come to bed? Had he stayed down here _specifically_ so she would come looking for him?

Percy is sitting at his desk, one tool in hand, the other between his teeth, brows in a deep frown as he leans over his newest invention. Instead of his silly yet adorable goggles, he wears his glasses and has a large, adjustable lens on a mechanical arm attached to the table. It dramatically magnifies the teeny-tiny clockwork of cogs he is working on with a miniscule screwdriver. Honestly, Vex is surprised the tiny cogs were not blown away into oblivion by the breeze she created when she opened the door. Really, she is also surprised he has not accidentally inhaled these tiny cogs at some point.

“I am late again, aren’t I?” he asks without looking up.

“You are,” she says with a smirk.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. I will be up in a minute. I just don’t want to leave this unfinished.”

“It’s past midnight.”

“I know,” he confirms with a nod towards the grandfather clock Scanlan has put in here as a very loud ticking reminder of passing time.

“Percy, darling, I really, really need you to put that away and come to bed with me.”

“And I would really like to come to bed with you, but-”

“Don’t make me come over there and distract you.”

He laughs a little and she sees him finish up. He puts a square copper lid over the box he has been tinkering – it might actually be a clock – and screws it in place, then he gingerly places it on the shelf just above his desk. Then he turns and for a moment he looks her up and down, taking in her form wrapped in the beautiful dressing gown, the intense teal colour complimenting her dark hair, smoothing all her edges into something out of a dream.

“You are so beautiful…” he declares on a breath, fingers covering his mouth as he watches her in awe. Vex’ahlia smirks a little.

“If you think _this_ is beautiful, wait till you see what’s under it,” she teases with a wink.

“Oh?” Percy asks, intrigued. She nods and leans her back against the door, tilting back her head to expose her neck.

“You want to know?”

“Oh, so very much,” he admits, his voice low and rough. She chuckles, and reaches behind to lock the workshop door. She sees Percy’s left brow arch up, but every semblance of sass tumbles from his face when she hooks a finger in the silk band holding the robe around her.

“Stay exactly where you are. You move, and I’ll put it right back on and will be out of here, and you’ll have to chase me all the way to the bedroom.”

“You make it sound like I wouldn’t tremendously enjoy chasing you to the bedroom.”

They are both smirking now. Vex’ahlia pulls her lower lip between her teeth and looks at him insistently. He nods. “I won’t move,” he promises.

“Good.”

And with that, she pulls the band free. The robe parts, the fine silk slipping off her left shoulder immediately. Percival draws in a breath, and she has a guess he regrets promising not to move right now. Because she is not, in fact, wearing _anything_ under the robe at all.

“Oh…” is all he manages. Vex’ahlia has a wicked grin on her lips as she pushes herself away from the door and in slow, measured steps, she walks towards him and lets the robe slide off her other shoulder. Percy is not moving, though she can guess the self control that takes, judging from the way his jawline has hardened. Luckily, Percy was a Champion of self-control. He watches her, his breath shaking, his hands clenched to fists on his thighs to keep them from reaching out to her. He swallows hard when she is almost within reach, all supple curves and soft skin, and she can see his eyes wander, no matter how hard he tries to keep them on her face to not give her the upper hand she so clearly has. His gaze traces the outline of her shoulders, follows the cascade of dark hair past her breasts, along the curve of her waist into her hips, to the dark triangle of thick curls where her thighs meet.

“Like what you see?” she asks.

“Hmm…” is all Percy can respond, clearly robbed of coherent speech, but his eyes return to her face again. Vex’ahlia chuckles as she brushes large curls of dark hair over her shoulders, tantalising as it covers part of her breasts, pert nipples peeking through. He groans, pressing his back against the backrest of the chair to remind himself to stay unmoving. “Oh sweet… you are evil.”

She chuckles.

By now she is right next to him, and pulls a leg over to straddle him on the chair, both arms leaning on the backrest, so close her breasts are almost in his face. Percy draws in a sharp breath, bites back a moan and pulls his hands behind his back because Gods, he wants to touch her. And she wants him to touch her. But it is a game of willpower and neither of them wants to give in just yet. They enjoy it too much.

She wraps her arms around him, fingers stroking through his hair, and rocks her very, very naked body against him, hips rolling against his, and there is an undeniable hardness in his fine trousers. He groans. “ _Vex’ahlia_ …”

“Yes, darling?” she asks, teasingly leaning closer as she brushes his hair behind his left ear and runs the tip of her tongue along the outer shell. He shudders under her, the moan that escapes his mouth in a hot breath is the most sensual she has ever heard from him, the sound of a man very close to the egde. Her lips close around his earlobe, suckling gently, and she can see his hands behind his back, trembling from the effort it took not to move. Another moan escapes him, this one shaped around her name. She would be lying if she claimed it left her cold. She was burning with longing, wanted to feel him, his hands, his lips, his skin against hers, more than anything.

She leans back, still comfortably straddling his lap, and begins to open the buttons of his waistcoat. She slips it off his shoulders and lets it fall to the floor next to them. Next, she opens the buttons of his stiff, white shirt, one after the other – and Gods, there a lot of them. When the last button leaves its port, she parts the fabric and splays her hands across the plains of his chest, nails dragging over his skin, hard enough to tease, gentle enough to leave nothing more than the memory of a touch on his skin. Percy’s head falls back, his eyes close, and she can feel his breath tremble, can feel his heart quicken under her touch. She reaches between them to undo the buttons of his trousers.

“I don’t think we’ll make it all the way upstairs to the bedroom, darling…” she humms with a playful pout.

“I think you’re right,” he agrees. It is possibly the last coherent sentence he can form before she reaches into his trousers and breeches and her fingers close around his hardened cock, dishevelling him into a mess of moans. She pulls him free from the confines of clothing, and her slick folds slide along the length of him as she moves her hips against him again. Her eyes flutter close as she feels him, her other hand digging into the fabric of his shirt as it slips off his shoulders.

“Percy,” she moans, a plea in her voice, and he responded in kind.

“Vex?”

“Touch me.”

He smirks. Dammit. Well, it seemed this round was his.

“I thought I was not supposed to move,” he teases, leaning forward just enough to reach for her lips, brushing his words over them in hot breaths. Vex’ahlia groans.

“I changed my mind. You may move.”

Before she really knows what happened, she is sitting on his desk with her legs wrapped around his waist. His arms had come around her instantly, he had pulled her into a burning kiss and then quite literally hoisted her up by her bare ass when he stood up, trousers and breeches now hanging by his knees, and set her on the table. His arm comes around her, pressing her against him with his hand splayed across her back, and she feels him, throbbing, pressed against her folds. He teases, denying her another kiss she tries to steal from him, his eyes piercing through hers, darkened by desire. She feels his fingers behind her back tangle in her hair, then grabbing a fistful and pulling, not painful, but enough to make her gasp as her head falls back, opening her neck to his agonisingly slow kisses.

His free hand – oh these clever fingers of his – come between them, stroking through slick folds, teasing her clit, slowly slipping a digit into her to draw out a desperate moan from her. His lips leave a trail of fire across her skin – down her neck, along her collarbone, between the swell of her breasts, up the supple slopes and circling her hardened nipples with just the tip of his tongue. And oh his fingers.

“Vex’ahlia…” he whispers her name, longing, his breath hot against her skin. She runs her hand through his hair, the other clinging to his upper arm for support.

“ _Percival_ ,” she returns, and he could surely hear her need in her voice, for he pulls her closer to him with the hand on her back, kisses her, and his length enters her without hesitation. They both moan, breaths mingling as their noses bump together. He pulls her lower lip between his teeth, and her fingernails dig into his shoulders, trembling as he stays still within her. His movement is slow then, retreating his hips, and then returning with a patience that nearly has her lose her mind.

Vex’ahlia whimpers, her lips ghosting over his, savouring every point of contact – his skin, his lips, the feeling of him within her. He retreats again, slowly, and the hand not tangled in her hair hooks under her knee, resting her thigh on his lower arm and he pulls her closer now, to meet him as his hips snap forward. Vex’ahlia cries out, and Percy buries his face in her hair, in the crook of her neck, inhales her scent and then releases the breath with a moan as his movements grow steadier, more rhythmical, as he begins to lose that infuriating control he has held on to so fiercely. The desk rocks under them, knocking against the wall every time Percy thrusts into her, and the tools in their  jars clink together every time, the sound mingling with theirs – their heavy breaths, their moans, hers high, soft whimpers, his low growls and gasps. Though Vex’ahlia could feel herself almost slip off the edge of the desk, she did not want him to stop, and Percy eventually bounced her back onto the desk surface, drawing a giggle out of them both. She felt his smirk against her skin, just beneath her earlobe. He knows he has her close, dangerously close. He hums her name, a heady breath, before his teeth brush along her earlobe.      

Vex’ahlia can feel herself shatter, can feel the pleasure rush through her like only he can draw it from her. He holds her close as she threatens to fall apart in his arms, and has released the firm hold of her hair to gently smooth his fingers through it while he whispers sweet nothings with his lips still against her earlobe, and thrusts with stuttering movement, pushing and pushing and pushing until-

The sensation makes her shiver, and when she has recovered from her orgasm, she draws his lips onto hers for a kiss. A long, lingering kiss that tastes like warmth and love, like home. Her walls are still pulsing, still thrumming with the released tension of her pleasure, when he follows her over the edge. Percy gasps, drawing in air from her kiss, and she can feel his release, the way his body grows still just before he collapses forward into her arms and she caresses his hair and the back of his neck. His breath comes in hot pants against her slightly sweat-slicked skin, and after a moment, he laughs.

“Not how you expected your evening to go?” she asks with a smirk, still breathless.

“No, not at all. But I am certainly not complaining,” he admits. Vex’ahlia chuckles. Percy stands again and withdraws from within her, all of him spent. He brushes messy curls of her raven hair from her face and her shoulders, a tender look in his eyes.

“Will you come to bed now?” she asks.

He chuckles as he struggles to arrange his clothes properly again.

“I will,” he confirms. He barely does up all the buttons of his shirt and walks over to the pool of silk where her dressing gown has dropped. She still sits on his desk, naked, feet dangling in mid-air and watches him with a pleased smile. When he returns, she gets off the table to stand toe to toe with him and he wraps the gown around her, gently ties it around her waist, then kisses the tip of her nose. “Let’s go to bed, MyLady.”

“Gladly, MyLord,” Vex’ahlia teases, wrapping an arm around him. He laughs as he puts an arm over her shoulders, and they make their way out together, locking his workshop and heading up to bed for a well-deserved night’s rest.          


End file.
